


a moment of silence

by canimo



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Drabble Collection, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, tender core if u will, they yearn. they heal thru each other. they r gay.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canimo/pseuds/canimo
Summary: two baberoe drabbles originally posted on tumblr.1: "in the cold, the tip of gene’s nose gets red."2: "gene knows that look on babe’s face, which is the worst part."
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> just wanted a home for these bad boys bc i'm too lazy to like. organize my blog LOL
> 
> anyway have fun reading and yearning <3

in the cold, the tip of gene’s nose gets red. he doesn’t realize it – they haven’t got mirrors, and if they did gene’s not looking – but babe knows. babe knows and he can’t stop looking.

it’s a soft sort of red, the kind of red he’d forgotten existed. he thought red only came it the harsh, dark form that blood takes, the kind that stained the snow and surprised you when you were out of your foxhole, the kind that was oozing through all of babe’s thoughts. but the red on gene’s nose is nearly pink, gentle and persistent and speaks of nothing but life. babe has the half crazed thought, frozen from weeks in bastogne, to reach out and touch it, like gene’s heart was hidden there instead of in his chest.

he doesn’t do it, though his hands itch with the ache to. instead he watches carefully, more careful than is normal, more careful than he’s ever been, and soaks up gene as much as he can. maybe – and this is another frozen bastogne thought – maybe gene’s red can replace the war red. it seems impossible, but sometimes when gene’s arm presses against babe’s and whatever warmth they have becomes shared, it’s almost tangible.


	2. two

gene knows that look on babe’s face, which is the worst part. somewhere in between calling him babe and now, gene’s picked up another language, babe’s language, and he’s fluent and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

babe’s got that look on his face, the worried furrow between his brows, mouth parted slightly, unsaid words silently slipping out, gene hearing them all the same. _are you okay? what do you need from me? how can i help you?_

it’s tempting to shove babe aside, put distance between them before they get messy and drenched in blood, but it’s even more tempting to take babe up on his offer. gene gives in, quietly asks, “cigarette?” and relishes in the soft sound of babe’s breath as he leans in to light it.

babe stands beside him as he smokes, a few careful centimeters separating them, because babe can speak gene’s language, too. gene can feel babe’s eyes track his movements, for once entirely quiet and still. the moment drags out long enough that gene almost forgets the war and the dead bodies, almost forgets to feel guilty about it.

when the cigarette is a stub, he offers it to babe. babe takes one last long drag and throws it out into the dark of the night, orange tip going dim. they meet each other’s eyes, and in that moment gene forgets every wall he’s put up since he was picked out to be a medic. babe’s voice is gentle and anxious around the edges when he says, “you know, gene, anything you need, i’m right here—"

“i know,” gene says. the words weigh heavy in his chest. “this was enough. thank you.”

babe nods and smiles. it’s tense and blurred with worry, so gene reaches over and brushes his fingers over the back of babe’s hand. babe presses back, and they stay like that for a long time, hands pressed together, sharing silence and company and the cool night air.


End file.
